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ness ;

Who but Fergus O'Farrell, the fiery and gay, A second Eve, but by no crime accursed ;
The darling and pride of the Flower of Finae ? As beauteous, not as brittle, as the first.

Had she been first, still Paradise had been,
One kiss and one clasp, and one wild look of glad- And death had found no entrance by her sin.

So she not only had preserved from ill
Ah! why do they changeona sudden to sadness, Her sex and ours, but lived their pattern still.
He has told his hard fortune, normore can he stay, Love and obedience to her lord she bore ;
He must leave his poor Eily to pine at Finae. She much obeyed him, but she loved him more :

Not awed to duty by superior sway,
For Fergus O'Farrell was true to his sire-land, But taught by his indulgence to obey.
And the dark hand of tyranny drove him from Thus we love God, as author of our good.

Ireland ;
He joins the Brigade, in the wars far away, Yet unemployed no minute slipped away ;
But he vows he'll come back to the Flower of Finae. Moments were precious in so short a stay.

The haste of Heaven to have her was so great
He fought at Cremona, she hears of his story ;| That some were single acts, though each complete ;
He fought at Cassano, -- she's proud of his glory. But every act stood ready to repeat.
Yet sadly she sings “Shule Aroon ” all the day, Her fellow-saints with busy care will look
“O, come, come, my darling, come home to Finae. For her blest name in fate's eternal book ;

And, pleased to be outdone, with joy will see
Eight long years have passed, till she's nigh Numberless virtues, endless charity :

But more will wonder at so short an age, Her reel, and her rock, and her flax she has To find a blank beyond the thirtieth page ; parted ;

And with a pious fear begin to doubt
She sails with the“ Wild Geese” to Flanders away, The piece imperfect, and the rest torn out.
And leaves her sad parents alone in Finae. But’t was her Saviour's time; and could there be

A copy near the original, ’t was she.
Lord Clare on the field of Ramillies is charging, As precious gums are not for lasting fire,
Before him the Sassanach squadrons enlarging, They but perfume the temple, and expire ;
Behind him the Cravats their sections display, So was she soon exhaled, and vanished hence,
Beside him rides Fergus and shouts for Finae.

A short sweet odor, of a vast expense.

She vanished, we can scarcely say she died ; On the slopes of La Judoigne the Frenchmen are For but a now did heaven and earth divide : flying,

She passed serenely with a single breath ;
Lord Clare and his squadrons, the foe still defying, This moment perfect health, the next was death :
Outnumbered, and wounded, retreat in array;

One sigh did her eternal bliss assure ;
And bleeding rides Fergus and thinks of Finae.

So little penance needs, when souls are almost pure.

As gentle dreams our waking thoughts pursue ; In the cloisters of Ypres a banner is swaying,

Or, one dream passed, we slide into a new;
And by it a pale weeping maiden is praying;

So close they follow, such wild order keep,
That flag's the sole trophy of Ramillies' fray,

We think ourselves awake, and are asleep :
This nun is poor Eily, the Flower of Finae. So softly death succeeded life in her :

She did but dream of heaven, and she was there.

No pains she suffered, nor expired with noise;
Her soul was whispered out with God's still voice;

As an old friend is beckoned to a feast,

And treated like a long-familiar guest.

He took her as he found, but found her so,
No single virtue we could most commend, As one in hourly readiness to go :
Whether the wife, the mother, or the friend ; E’en on that day, in all her trim prepared ;
For she was all, in that supreme degree, As early notice she from heaven had heard,
That, as no one prevailed, so all was she. And some descending courier from above
The several parts lay hidden in the piece ; Had given her timely warning to remove ;
The occasion but exerted that, or this.

Or counseled her to dress the nuptial room,
A wife as tender, and as true withal,

For on that night the bridegroom was to come.
As the first woman was before her fall :

He kept his hour, and found her where she lay Made for the man, of whom she was a part ; Clothed all in white, the livery of the day. Made to attract his eyes, and keep his heart.




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But long, upon Araby's green sunny highlands, LAMENT OF THE BORDER WIDOW. .

Shall maids and their lovers remember the doom

Of her who lies sleeping among the Pearl Islands, [This ballad relates to the execution of Cockburne of Hender

With naught but the sea-star to light up her land, a border freebooter, hanged over the gate of his own tower by James V. in his famous expedition, in 1529, against the maraud

tomb. ers of the border. In a deserted burial-place near the ruins of the castle, the monument of Cockburne and his lady is still shown. The following inscription is still legible, though defaced: "HERE And still, when the merry date-season is burning, LYES PERYS OF COKBURNE AND HIS WYFE MARJORY." --Sir Walier Scott.]

And calls to the palm-groves the young and the

old, My love he built me a bonnie bower,

The happiest there, from their pastime returning And clad it a' wi' lily flower ; A brawer bower ye ne'er did see,

At sunset, will weep when thy story is told. Than my true-love he built for me.

The young village maid, when with flowers she

dresses There came a man, by middle day, He spied his sport, and went away ;

Her dark-flowing hair for some festival day, And brought the king that very night,

Will think of thy fate, till neglecting her tresses, Who brake my bower, and slew my knight.

She mournfully turns from the mirror away.

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